


You Remind Me of a Distant Constellation

by neuroticscales



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Sibling Incest, growing relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 12:13:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1266112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neuroticscales/pseuds/neuroticscales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having a crush on your sister is really fucking hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Remind Me of a Distant Constellation

Beep beep… beep beep…

Your alarm clock annoys you enough to drag yourself to the other side of the room to turn it off. Half past noon. This must be a record- earliest you’ve gotten up since you started living with your sister. Of course, Rose was one of those assholes who thought they were superior because they woke up at half-past go fuck yourself. But, your living situation was an excellent fit. You both went to the same college and also hated the majority of the human race, so that meant no dorms. And living with your mom and brother was out because Rose’s mom was a drunk asshole, and Bro was… Bro. This resulted in a single, shared apartment. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, zero backyards and picket fences. It was probably a little awkward to rub one out with your sister literally one room away, but you stone-cold did not give a shit. Everyone said you bickered like an old, married couple, anyway. Speaking of Rose, you could hear her puttering around the kitchen right now. God damn these thin walls. You could practically hear the smirk she’d flash you when you walked into the room. What the fuck was she doing anyway? You resigned yourself to the fact that you’d have to get out of your room eventually, so you make your way to the kitchen in just your boxers. Fuck clothes. You find out she’s cooking. In your shirt. And no pants. Which shouldn’t be an issue- she’s your sister. But, it is. It is and you have to pause and take a deep breath to get your bearings.  
“She’s your sister,” you whisper to yourself. She looks up and stares right at you. Hmms questioningly.  
“Oh. Uh, nothing,” you reply awkwardly.  
“Alrighty, then.” She looks down, hiding the sly grin you know is there. It’s pretty much always there.  
“What are you doing?”  
“Cooking.” You raise an eyebrow.  
“In my shirt?” She reminds you that you should do the laundry more often. You say you know. She pulls another smirk and it’s way too attractive, lipsticked and devious, and you have to brace yourself against the island to start breathing again. Rose would probably call your behavior “uncouth”. You would tell her to fuck herself.  
“What are you cooking for?” She looks at you and smiles. Like, an actual smile. God fucking dammit. She serves you a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast, setting it down on the island with a fork and napkin placed neatly beside it. It’s too nice. Maybe she’s planning something.  
She joins you at the counter with her own plate and delicately picks at her bacon. You really don’t know how she does it, but if anyone could shove slaughtered and fried pig meat into their mouth with poise, it’s Rose. You just rake your eggs onto your toast and shovel it in. She gives you a distasteful grimace.  
“Want to slow it down there, David?” she requests with annoying genteel. Your reply comes in the form of forcing more eggs down your windhole.  
“Don’t call me David,” you say. She knows it bothers you, but doesn't know the real reason why. She doesn't know it’s because her voice is deep and rich, and you can see her teeth and tongue as they form the words, and the low vibrations resonate in your chest like bass. She has no idea how much of a fucking disgrace you are. How much you want to ruin her.  
She takes both your empty plates and heads to the sink. You follow her, of course. You sort of always do. You hope she’ll wash them right away so you can see her pale, gentle hands run soapy circles over the plates’ surface. God, you can’t fucking take this anymore. You scrounge up every last shred of courage you possess and grab her wrist as she sets the dishes into the sink. She looks worried but doesn’t move. Your hand shaking pathetically, you place it on the side of her face and stroke small circles with your thumb. Her eyebrows raise, then lower, her dark eyes locked on yours. You lean in slowly, giving her the chance to pull away. She doesn't. You place a kiss on her top lip gently, testing just how okay she is with this. She drops the plates, making a loud clatter, and lays a hand on your waist. You’re the one to pull away, opening your eyes to catch any hint of a negative reaction.  
Her lipstick is smeared onto her upper lip. You wipe it away with your thumb and rest your forehead on hers.  
“What the hell are we doing?,” she asks.  
“I don’t know.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first try at DaveRose! I've shipped it for a while but have been a little iffy on it. This may become more than a drabble/oneshot if you all like it...?
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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